


Barry Manilow

by Pepsi (Pepsiiii)



Series: One offs [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Copacabanan AU, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepsiiii/pseuds/Pepsi
Summary: So Kuroo wasn’t the happiest mother fucker in the world but he also couldn’t complain much either. He doesn’t have the clearest memory of when he was happy, but it was probably when he worked as a dancer one summer.OR; Kuroo reminisces about the days in his youth, better, happier days.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: One offs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936612
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Barry Manilow

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a writing exercise nothing else.

If Kuroo (in his ever-present, ever thinking, ever re-evaluating way) thought about his romantic situation he would probably say that his life was no different than the hit American-yacht-rock anthem “ _ Copacabana”.  _ He tended to steer clear of the usual pitfalls of romance (as one does when they have no ties or connections to others past the very bleak and basic “ _ Legally I can’t let you not pay.  _ Y _ ou need to pay your taxes sir”  _ or “ _ Yes, this is an official audit. Please log into your account so I can begin”  _ and the occasional conversation with a coworker or two) and as such he finds himself alone more often than not. 

This loneliness of his is little more than a cheap ploy from his mind to encourage some kind of change, some kind of act of diffidence against the everyday nothingness that was his life. The basic idea, from what he gathered, was that he would get sad then he would ask himself “why am I sad?”. He would then contemplate his life (and his apparent sadness) and the causes of his disillusioned mindset. This would finally lead him to the conclusion he needs to shake something up (maybe buying a car! Maybe getting wasted and married! Maybe, maybe, maybe) and then, once he shakes something, his life would gain a sense of happiness and the serotonin in his brain would once again turn on and everything would be wonderful because holy shit Kuroo Tetsurou was  _ happy. _

But Kuroo wasn’t a monkey who followed the whims of the scientist in his mind, doing whatever he needed to get the golden banana of happiness. No, he was a man. A man who did what he damn pleased. So to spite himself he stayed where he was, how he was. 

Anyway, Kuroo has a boyfriend. They’re not particularly happy together but they’re together and you can’t spell “happiness” without “paying rent” and nothing makes rent cheaper than paying with someone else. So they stayed together. They were young, they had each other. 

Who could ask for more? 

So Kuroo wasn’t the happiest mother fucker in the world but he also couldn’t complain much either. He doesn’t have the clearest memory of when he was happy, but it was probably when he worked as a dancer one summer. 

That summer he was a fresh 20 year old right off the metaphorical grill of life and he was broke as shit. There weren’t many options for work for a man like him (a man who didn’t want a job) so he did what he did best and talked his way into a position he didn’t deserve in the slightest (it was a tried and true method. That’s how he became captain of the volleyball team he was in. God knows he’d never played the game before). He walked into the bar closest to his apartment and asked if they needed any help (if they were willing to pay him to loiter around more accurately) and unfortunately the bar owner said yes. So now Kuroo was a dancer (not a stripper. Not a prostitute. Nothing like that. The official title on his W2 form was ‘ _ showgirl’  _ but that’s bullshit. He was a  _ dancer.)  _ and his name tag said ‘ _ Lola’.  _ The owner said that was the only one they had for the time being and as such Kuroo would either learn to love the name or find somewhere else to shuffle around for minimum wage. He didn’t mind (broke as shit; easy to please) and from that day on he was  _ Lola _ . 

His uniform required him to wear a fucked up dress that was short as hell. So short in fact when he put it on, the dress went right about  _ there ( _ his dick and balls, for reference) before stopping and turning into yellow tassels. He also wore yellow feathers in his hair, just because it really made his eyes pop and if he didn’t his boss would  _ fire him.  _ So here he is. Lola, the showgirl dancing his ass off while his ass was showing so he could afford to keep taking classes at school. Not a prostitute, not a stripper, just a guy with little to no options left. 

The only dances he really had to do were the  _ merengue  _ and the  _ cha-cha _ . Learning those were a pain in the ass (something that was still hanging out plenty) and because he wasn’t being paid enough to be an actual professional dancer, he only learned the basics (the Macarena, but like, the full-body version). Most days he just kinda swayed his hips and moved his arms or something, he didn’t pay much attention. All Kuroo knew was that he wasn’t fired yet so he couldn’t have been  _ that _ bad. He wasn’t the biggest go-getter in the world, but he did love attention and since he was already there Kuroo did tend to try a little bit when it came to getting eyes on him (so he wanted to be a star, sue him). But the best part of the job was the guy working behind the bar.

His name tag said Tony but his driver's license said ‘ _ Tsukishima Kei’ _ . Kuroo didn’t care much either way and just called him Tsukki when they weren’t on shift. They both worked the same shift, 8 PM to 4 AM every day except Saturday, Wednesday and Monday. The bar was closed on those days so of course, they didn’t come in. Tsukki was an asshole and Kuroo, in all his boring glory, loved messing with him. 

“You look like you hate your job.” Kuroo whispers into Tsukki’s ear as they sit through another sexual harassment avoidance employee training course.

“Among other things.”

“ _ Oh do tell. _ ” 

Tsukki would tend the bar, mix cheap drinks with shitty liquors for people who didn’t know the difference anyway. Sometimes Kuroo would come over and smile at him, twirling his fingers around the cheap rhinestone necklace he wore and giving the best ‘ _ please give me alcohol I need to get through this shift’  _ face. Some people called it bedroom eyes. 

Tsukki was blonde and pretty, but he was mainly scowling and disinterested in everything ever. Kuroo didn’t say he was into it or anything, but admittedly when he went to sleep he saw those same tired eyes looking at him like Kuroo asked for  _ five  _ shots of rubbing alcohol instead of  _ two.  _ When he smiled (rarely) he looked like a guy who didn’t hate everything and instead only hated somethings (one of those things  _ NOT _ being Kuroo. He smiled at Kuroo and everytime he did Kuroo felt a little mushy, a little soft, a little smitten inside. He would pull his dress down a bit too, ya’know, _ just in case _ ). So yeah it was whatever. They worked, they flirted, they met in the back of Kuroo’s car sometimes out of boredom and swapped spit for a while, they shared a Netflix account because Kuroo didn’t want to actually pay for his own and Tsukki didn’t want to hear him bitch about his lack of quality television and movie varieties anymore. They were young and had each other and really, who could ask for more? (Kuroo feels like he’s said that already but then again he repeats himself a lot).

Once there was this guy that came in and shot Tsukki in the chest.

Well, _not exactly._

He was wearing a giant diamond, tacky as hell but the real deal. Kuroo would be remiss to say he wasn’t really into it. The guy was short and smiled like he genuinely enjoyed the shitily made alcohol he got. Kuroo didn’t think he did, no one really did, but he did appreciate the smile. It was refreshing! (Tsukki never smiled).

He called Kuroo over with a whistle, like a weirdo, and Kuroo (ever the loyal worker) walked over.

“Yes? What can I get you?”

“You got a number?”

Kuroo had actually forgotten to pay his phone bill the week prior so, as of 7 days ago, no. He doesn’t. 

“Nah. You got a name?”

The guy smiles and looks like a mildly imposing 17-year-old. Kuroo really did feel for anyone unlucky enough to be born with real baby face syndrome. What a terrible fate to have. At least he was a cute baby. 

“Yaku. But my… friends call me Rico.”

“Why would anyone call you Rico. That’s nowhere near Yaku.”

“It’s a joke between pals.”

“Why would you tell me then? I don’t know you man. I don’t get the joke.”

Rico or Yaku or whatever his fucking name was laughs and looks Kuroo up and down. Still weird but Kuroo is still kinda into it. 

“You got a mouth on you huh? I like it.”

So now they’re staring at each other and Kuroo is tired and ready to just clock out and if he’s gonna get some from Mr. funny man over here then that’s what he’s gonna get. But then something happens (Yaku puts his hands on Kuroo’s thigh or something) and then something else happens (Tsukki jumps up and throws a chair at Yaku, breaking the table in the process) and after all of that the big thing happens (Yaku gets up and yells at Tsukki and Tsukki calls Yaku a creep and Yaku tells Tsukki to fuck off and Tsukki throws another chair and suddenly there’s a gun and Kuroo just doesn’t know how they got here). 

Okay so now, there they were. Yaku pulls out a gun. A gunshot is heard. There’s blood on the floor now. It’s crazy as hell. Kuroo only has one question by the end of it all.

_ But who shot who? _

Yaku obviously shot Tsukki but as they sat in the ICU Kuroo found it hard to explain exactly what happened. So he’s sitting there and Tsukki is bleeding but it's only a mild stomach wound, the bullet went right through him he’s  _ fine _ , but he doesn’t look fine but then again Kuroo doesn’t have the time nor the money to really be that worried (and yet he’s really worried and really needs the guy he’s kinda in love with to be okay). 

But, anyway,

That was like… (Kuroo tries to remember accurately. Feels like 30 years ago when in reality it was like …) 3 years ago. He doesn’t work at the bar anymore (it’s a fucking throwback disco joint or something now. Kuroo just called it what it was— a weird sex club you had to pay for also dollar skating) and he doesn’t go by Lola either. Tony died a tragic death but Tsukki didn't (he quit the moment he was out of the hospital. It was pretty funny to watch). Yaku got off scot-free and Kuroo should probably feel bad about that but that night he dropped his diamond and Kuroo sold it for 2 million dollars. All and all it was a good night.

Now he’s older and wiser and out of love. He’s still with Tsukki (rent is enjoyed best as a party of two) and they’re definitely not in love anymore but it’s okay. Sometimes he puts the feathers back in his hair, takes a sip of the cheapest liquor his money (which he had a lot of ) could buy, and pretended he was back in that shit stain of a club, rocking his hips to the music of a made-up Bahaman-like island, the sound of bongos and fucking, he doesn’t know, maracas wistfully playing in his ear.

He has no idea where he was originally going with all that but it didn’t really matter anyway. At least he always had his memories of music and passion ( at the  _ Copacabana _ , yeah that’s the bar name he always forgets to mention, those two things were always the fashion).

_No, the bar wasn’t named after the song. The song was named after the bar and Kuroo knew that because that shit hole couldn’t be named after such a good song and be as … bad, as it was_.

Long story short, don’t fall in love with the guy you meet in any bar. 

**Author's Note:**

> don't fucking look at me  
> If you enjoyed go read my other fics :) comment your thoughts, praise me insistently, go on twitter and yell at me to be productive. It really means a lot when you do!
> 
> //Twt//@Burnttoastwbttr


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